


Take Another Photo To Remember Me By

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(model au) It's been a long day for Brendon Urie, having to sit through hair and makeup, and all he really wants to do is see how far he can go with his photographer, Ryan Ross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Another Photo To Remember Me By

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching too much America's Next Top Model and this idea just came to me. I don't usually write porn but I liked the idea so much I knew I had to go through with it. It also never started out this kinky, but, eh, here it is.

When I stepped in at the very intolerable hour of five in the morning, I was told by the makeup artist that my skin was just fabulous and hair and makeup would be a breeze. I had realized I had the made the irrevocable mistake of believing the girl who spent her life displaying lies on other people’s faces. 

She kept poking at my face and scrunching up her eyebrows. I heard her mutter something about my forehead, and I was close to calling it off. The cell phone that was in my grip was about a minute away from being used to call my manager and figure out why he had thought this was a good idea. Spencer had told me that magazine covers were what models dreamed of, but no one even reads magazines anymore. I had had my fair share of covers. I could call places and ask to be on the covers, I don’t need them hiring me. 

Nonetheless, Spencer had guaranteed that the photographer was classy and well-respected. I had questioned this because I didn’t know his name. I figured this would all be worth it, though. It might add a nice picture to my portfolio, despite its abundance of beauty it already held. It could be one more “fuck you” to my parents who thought I had ruined my life when I was sixteen. It was yet another trophy to hang in my empty house. 

After a grueling hour, they released me from hell and finished dressing me. The clothes choices weren’t very ornate, and I had found myself in yet another nearly naked state—not that I minded it. A flannel grazed my skin, the sleeves rolled up the perfect length and the buttons left unbuttoned, leaving my taunt stomach exposed. They originally had me in jeans, but the photographer had said something about his “creative vision” and then they put me in tight boxer-briefs. 

An assistant brought me to set, not bothering to introduce himself. He pointed to the white backdrop they had set up and told me to prepare myself. I almost scoffed. He made it sound like we were playing a sport and I had to warm up first. I looked best with spontaneity, when I didn’t think anyone was looking. The amateur photographer assistant wouldn’t know this though. 

A frail looking boy came up to me, a hand full of lenses balancing haphazardly. He outstretched his unoccupied one, sending me a bright smile. “Wow, it’s really nice to meet you. I’m Ryan, the, um, your photographer for today,” he said, voice ridden with anxiousness. “And this is Jon, he’s my assistant.” 

I smiled cordially at both of them, expecting them to just know my name. I still remember when I first started out and I had to constantly repeat my name, hoping that someone would remember it. Now, though, they looked at me like I was gold. It’s lost its sparkle. The flashing camera and runways once seemed so beautiful to me. The designer’s names were like poetry. The lines of the cocaine were like one hundred dollar bills. Things had just started turning black and white. 

“It’s a pretty mundane shoot today,” Ryan said. “As you probably know, the magazine is known for its…sexual aura, so keep that in mind.” 

It was funny to watch him grow uncomfortable. After modeling so long, the restrictions of censorship broke. What seemed wrong and unjust, were tasteful in the modeling industry. Pulling your pants down just a little lower was what people wanted for a magazine like this. They wanted me on the brink of nakedness; they just didn’t want to outright tell me that. 

I gave Ryan one of my sly winks and watched him walk away, goofy grin embossing his face. What was alluring and made all the girls swoon never worked on guys, but Ryan seemed to fall into the trap. It made me watch him more closely, try to find out where his eyes flickered to. 

Ryan finally had a camera ready, one that was nearly bigger than his head. I stifled a laugh and started posing. He didn’t say much, which put me off a little. I had gotten used to the “that looks great” or “beautiful, really, Brendon” type of things people would say. He wasn’t even giving me direction, he just snapped away. He would occasionally ask Jon to bring him a different lens or ask about the lighting. Nothing about me though. 

I knew I had to veer his attention in my direction, so I did what any model would do, started posing more dramatically. In this case, the magazine really being some almost-porno, but still kind of fashion, with a slight twist of teenage articles, I assumed this was what Ryan would like. I fiddled with my boxers, slowly hooking my thumbs under the elastic waistbands. It might have been a little too swimwear calendar sexy, but with my face, I could do anything. 

Ryan didn’t seem impressed, rather flustered. He kneeled down awkwardly, getting the camera close to the ground. When he stood back up, though, I realized this was going to be more fun that I had originally thought. The poor guy was sporting a very noticeable boner, his tawny slacks hiding nothing. I tried not smirk, but I think I might have. 

“Fuck,” Ryan muttered, and for a few seconds I thought he was going to address the situation, make it even weirder in here. 

Jon jumped towards him, face worried. He didn’t seem aware of Ryan’s little problem. “What?” he asked. 

“I just realized my thirty-five millimeter is at the studio. Jon, I need that.” 

“That would be a good half an hour before I got back, Ry. Is it worth it?” 

Ryan gave Jon this look, one that obviously meant, yes, the lens was worth it, and then Jon was gone, the set now empty besides Ryan and I. He took more photos, his boner not going away. It felt like some twisted form of foreplay. I nearly faltered at the thought. I was a professional, I was not about to follow Ryan and pop a boner, but my mind started to imagine how he’d look while giving me a blowjob. 

“So, are you gay?” I asked bluntly, trying to kill the tension that had built upon us. 

Ryan widened his eyes a little, looking down to my feet rather than my face. “Um, yeah.” 

I watched him trip a little on a cord, just barely managing to keep the camera in his hands. “Calm down, Ryan,” I said, saying his name like I’ve known him for forever. “Everyone’s got their secrets.” 

I tried to say it flirtatiously, hoping that maybe he’d catch onto the fact that my sexuality was more fluid that he’d expect. He didn’t react the way I wanted. I thought that maybe this photographer was too classy to do anything with the models. I’d never been opposed to it because a lot of photographers look like they could be models. This doe eyed boy, with soft, wavy brown hair and a petite figure, would be casted in Paris under five minutes. 

I smirked a little, deciding that if Ryan wasn’t going to do anything, I was, and if he still didn’t want to do anything then I would jerk off in the dressing room. I started tugging my boxers down more. By the look on Ryan’s face, I knew that my neatly cut pubic hair was poking through. Ryan didn’t seem awfully fazed by this so I went lower, exposing the base of my dick. As I expected, this earned a flustered reaction. He started coughing, and I finally broke out in laughter. 

“It’s just a dick. Besides, you’re gay, so you should be cool with this,” I said, finally just yanking off my boxers all the way, letting them fall to the ground. “You can crop them later.” 

Ryan just fidgeted with the camera instead of looking me in the eyes. Growing impatient, I beckoned for him, “Come here.” 

Ryan cleared his throat and came over to me, confusion apparent on his features. I swooped in once he got close enough, pushing our lips together. He didn’t seem surprised and even used his unoccupied hand to grab at my shoulders. I pushed a tongue into his mouth and sloppily tried to get him into a daze. I slowly coaxed his camera out of his hand. He jolted apart when he realized what has been taken from him. 

“Strip,” I demanded, putting the camera in front of my face. 

Through the view finder I watched as Ryan looked uncomfortable, looking down to the ground as if he was ashamed. I impatiently walked over to him and cupped his hard cock through his slacks. He didn’t make a noise like I wanted, but he did take in a quick breath. When I stepped back, camera poised in front of my face for the second time, he actually did start stripping. 

I started taking photographs as he yanked off his shirt, lethargic limbs working teasingly slow. I licked my lips and made the camera zoom in on his torso. He wasn’t very toned, but the way his hip bones jutted out more noticeably than most people made me bite my lip. When I zoomed out it was apparent he was uncomfortable with the camera watching him as he slipped out of his pants. 

“Gimme confidence, Ryan,” I told him as I worked out of my flannel. “I’m not wearing anything and it’s really fucking great—Jesus, you should be a model. You look hot all nervous and awkward. Some casting directors would die for you.” 

I happened to snap a photograph as he smiled at me, a shy one that made me think I could really have fun with him. He remained silent as he let his tight briefs fall to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his middle and looked away from me. 

“I think you’re picking up tricks from the models, Ryan,” I snicker, moving slightly to catch the light on his profile. “Have you ever fucked your models?” 

He shook his head. 

“What about your photographer friends? Ever gotten some dick from them?” 

Ryan looked like a deer in the headlight at this question. He didn’t shake his head, but didn’t nod either. 

I took it as yes. I smiled and approached him, camera still in my grasp, and grabbed for his dick, giving him slow strokes, trying to tease him the same way he did undressing. “Have you fucked Jon? He’s hot. I bet you did,” I said. “Or did he fuck you?” 

Ryan let out a moan finally, the first acknowledgement that I wasn’t forcing this all upon him, well, besides the boner. His hands were idly at his sides, obviously not sure what to do without his camera. All I wanted was for him to touch me, but he didn’t do anything. I wasn’t going to beg either. “So he did, huh? I bet it was slow at first but then he really fucked you because we both know you like it hard. You’re quiet so you’re probably a kinky son of a bitch. He was probably sweating over you and you probably get such a dirty mouth when that kind of stuff happens.” 

He grunted, bucking himself closer to me. “Brendon,” he sighed out. “I’m close…really close.” 

I kept my hand moving on him, slowing down maybe a little, my other hand still snapping the occasional shot. “Admit it, Ryan. Tell me that that was what happed.” I waited for a quiet reply, but, besides his heavy breathing, he was still silent. I took my hand off from him, removing the camera from my face and grabbing for his hands to hold above his head firmly. “Fucking tell me, Ryan, or you’ll never come.” 

His mouth dropped open, letting out a choked breath. I could see the want perfectly painted in his eyes. “Yes!” he yelled abruptly, almost surprising me. “He fucked me. You’re right…Fuck, you’re right, okay?” 

His hands were wiggling in my grip, and I could bet that he had a pair of metal handcuffs at home. He probably wanted bruises from me. I let go of his hands and he looked as if he was about to go straight to his dick. I thrust the camera at him and he gingerly took it. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself, only I can,” I told him. “And take some good pictures of me.” 

He seemed confused until I got down on my knees. I placed a rough hand on the base of his cock and only take his head in my mouth. He made a choked noise from above, and I looked up to see him with his eyes closed, camera haphazardly in his grasp. I pulled away, much to his dismay, and said, “I’m not doing this unless you take pictures, Ryan. It turns me on. Why do you think I became a model in the first place?” 

Once he looked a little shocked but proceeded to take photographs of me. I rewarded him by putting my mouth back on him, sucking on the head of his dick, enough for my cheeks to hollow. I could hear the camera clicks and I let my eyes fall closed so the photos almost look poetic. I took more of him down, the hand at the base of his cock now moving to the places I couldn’t reach. I had given a few blowjobs, so I was fairly decent at this. 

Ryan kept groaning, sultry noises from deep in his throat. It only pushed me to keep going further, my unoccupied hand finding his balls to roll between my hands. He pushed forward a little at this, obviously having spent the first of the blowjob trying to not buck forward. I pushed his hips into place. Not yet. 

“Yes, Brendon,” he whined softly, the clicks of the camera getting slower. 

I reached down to stroke myself, instantly letting out a muffled moan. Ryan seemed to like this and he kept trying to get past the grip I had on his hips. I knew Ryan had to be close. I was already. I finally moved away from him, his dick sliding against my cheek, a mix of my own saliva and his pre-come smearing onto my skin. I wiped it off before standing up. 

He looked forlorn and confused as I moved away from him. “We need to get more shots, Ryan. Don’t stop taking pictures until I get off.” 

I watched as he nodded his head, looking like he was in a daze. I started jerking off, putting on the sexiest face I had in my book. I let a few small grunts leave my mouth until I realized I needed to do something about my other hand. I brought it to my hair, letting it pull at my perfectly styled hair. I messed it up the best I could, closing my eyes and dropping my mouth open. I opened them briefly to see Ryan back in photographer mode, his hard on still as strong as before. 

I wanted to keep talking dirty to Ryan, but I knew he needed some decent shots. I thought of Jon and him fucking, but suddenly Jon became me. I wanted to have Ryan on my dick or have him handcuffed to the bed. I thought of how tight he must be. I wanted to know all his kinks so I could use them against him. God, I wanted…I wanted—

I started to come, my hand working faster than it did before. I watched Ryan take more photos as I moaned loudly, relentlessly bucking into my first. I closed my eyes again and let the warmth spread to my body, the euphoria making my fingers curl harshly in my hair. I stayed that way until I felt completely sated, everything in me tingling. 

I marched over to Ryan and got back down on my knees, placing my hands behind my back. “Fuck my face,” I demanded bluntly, not even caring if he takes pictures. “Then…Then I want you to come on my face.” 

It wasn’t something I let a lot of guys do, but Ryan felt special. His awkwardness really caught me off guard. I trusted him for some reason. He nodded jerkily and went straight to work. The noises I kept making weren’t exactly pretty, but when I looked up to him, he looked blissed out. In that moment, I wished I had a camera just to capture that face. He started out careful, but I could tell he lost himself somewhere in the middle. He put his hands in my hair and let his hips jerk freely. His dick hit the back of my throat a few times, and it didn’t take him long to pull out and blow his load all over my face. 

His aim wasn’t perfect, his eyes closed and hands shaky, but he did manage not to get any in my eyes. Instead, I felt his warm come fall onto my lips and chin. I groaned, but tried not to get hard again. Too soon. I brought a hand up to my face and collected some of his come, made sure was looking, and then brought it to my mouth. It wasn’t particularly good but he looked amazed at the gesture, so I figured it was worth it. 

I stood up and gave him a slow kiss. “Take another photo to remember me by.”


End file.
